Two Southern Gentlemen Ch. 14

Content/trigger warning: This series contains bullying, homophobic language, and non-consensual sexual acts, but they are integral to the plot and character development so please take them in context.

*

DUSTY

I woke up this morning and for half a second my brain is mercifully empty, but then it's overflowing with the memory of everything that happened yesterday. I have a splitting headache because I drunk more than I have in all my life so that I could finally pass out as a substitute for actual sleep. But despite all that all the sights, sounds, smells, tastes, thoughts, feelings from last night come rushing in, and my morning wood is so hard. But I know better than to do anything about that now. No way am I touching myself this morning.

I think I know now what being an alcoholic, a druggie, or a vampire feels like. Not that I've ever done drugs or been a vampire, but I feel like I've had one hit of something overpoweringly strong and I've become a damn addict. One fucking hit. What the hell. I can't stop thinking about last night, but I try to just focus on the mind-blowing piss experience and try not think at all about anything else. I don't fucking want to think about him.

I spend the whole day walking around in a sort of distracted haze. Withdrawal I guess. Even my daddy notices that I'm out of it.

"You all right, son? You look like shit," he says when I see him in the kitchen around lunch time, not long after I'd woken up.

"No, sir. Just a little under the weather, I guess," I mumble.

"It's another scorcher today. You be sure to stay hydrated, now," he says.

"Yes, sir. I will," I say trying to shake off my hangover and act more normally.

"Isn't Misty getting back from camp today?"

"Oh. Yes, sir, that's right."

He raises an eyebrow at my neutral response, compared to this whole last week when I kept saying how much I wished she was back. "You two break up or something?"

"No, sir. Just kind of tired."

He looks at me more closely and I think he can pretty easily tell that I'm hung over. That just makes him smile big, probably remembering his own wild high school days, and he says, "Well, don't stay out too late tonight, eh?"

"No, sir, I won't."

Relieved of his questioning I have a sudden panic at the reminder that Misty is back today and I'm going to have to pretend to be happy to see her. Fuck. I just have to get back to how things were. Just gotta act normal, and I'll forget about all that other shit soon enough. All told I don't think I could have spent more than an hour or two with him, between last week and yesterday. Surely there ain't no way that just an hour or two could have done me any permanent damage... right?

***

I'm down between Misty's legs on her bed in her room, eating her out like there's no tomorrow. Her daddy travels a lot for work and her momma's a real social butterfly and out most nights at some party or another, and they think their daughter is a good little Christian angel and her boyfriend is a perfect gentleman. In reality, she and I have had sex in pretty nearly every single room in this house, including her parents' bed once for the hell of it. I was so eager to get to Misty's pussy that I practically ripped her clothes off. She protested, but I knew she was loving my unexpected roughness, although when I shoved my face up in her I was eating her out so hard that she complained that my beard was scratching her. I dialled it back some but still kept my face buried deep in her wet cunt, as if it were a place I could crawl into and use to escape from the real world forever.

I'm trying not to let my mind wander, but when she starts to move to climb on top of me I have to stand up and take her from behind. I just can't deal with watching her face, especially not tonight.

Misty always makes me wear a condom, and as I fuck her faster and faster, dammit, I can't help it, I keep comparing her to him. Jesse. Even thinking his name shoots sparks all the way through me. I keep shoving images of him aside, and right when she's cumming and screaming to wake the dead I realize I feel absolutely nothing for her and I wonder if I ever did. Of course I love her, she's my hot sexy cheerleader girlfriend! Everyone wants to be with her! As a last ditch effort, like clutching at straws, I try to focus on how good it feels to fuck her, and it does feel pretty good. I fuck her harder and faster to my own climax and try again to focus on her small breasts, her athletic, lean body, her smooth back, but it's just no use. Her long hair, her smell, the way her body widens at the hips, her soft parts... she's just not like him at all. And again, Jesus fucking Christ, right when I cum, it's as if I'm strapped to a chair and forced to look and my mind fucks with me and makes me think of his dark curly hair, his hazel eyes, so expressive even behind his glasses, his manly scent, his slim hips and long legs, the heat of his piss, the taste of it, the heat of his body, the tip of his throbbing long thick dick touching my lips... Fuckkkkkk!!!

I erupt and shoot my load hard, but damn if I'm going to let myself enjoy it. I drop the condom that's near overflowing with my cum in Misty's trash can and collapse on the bed. Misty curls up on my chest and rubs her fingers over me in a way that I guess she thinks is sexy, but her skinny little fingers with their perfect manicure and bright red nail polish just make me tense involuntarily. I force my body to relax and run my fingers through her long hair a little, which I know she likes. She yaks on and on about I don't even know what, but I'm used to spacing out and just saying the occasional "Uh, huh" and "Really?" I guess there are some benefits to having a completely self-centered girlfriend.

At that moment I think, I don't know what love is, but this ain't it. Maybe I thought I loved her at first because she was the ultimate prize at school, the one every guy wanted, but we don't really talk at all, we don't really have anything in common. We pretty much just meet up on our way to or from practices or football games or hanging out with our other friends or to have sex. You know, I guess I'm just figuring out now that I don't even really like her. She's a shallow and vain little queen bee, self-absorbed, plays the part of the perfect sweet girlfriend,

destined to be a rich trophy housewife and socialite, just like her momma. And on top of all that she's a bully in her own way when you get down to it, has to surround herself with girls she orders around and controls, but then turns around and sucks up to me like I wouldn't notice what she's really like. I guess I haven't noticed before, but now it all clicks in my head and it makes me shudder a little looking at her with these new eyes. Fuck. I guess we were a perfect match in a lot of ways. Both bullies, both using each other, I wonder if she even feels anything for me. I'm betting not. It's like I was blind before and now the scales have fallen from my eyes, and now, seeing what I've been my whole life up to now reflected back at me when I look at her... It makes me feel... ...I guess ashamed is the only word for it. Ashamed.

She's still talking. What the hell am I going to do? I look up at the ceiling but there aren't any answers there. This is definitely not going to be easy to get out of, but the more I think about it, instead of feeling upset about it, I feel like it would be a huge relief. If I could break up with Misty... Not having to put up with her giggling and her friends, her two faces, not having to act like the perfect gentleman in front of her parents and any of that shit any more. Not having to put up with the winking and nudging from my daddy, his open admiration of Misty's body and all his comments about how "If only he were my age..." Not having to pretend to care about her, because honestly, at this point I could give a flying fuck about her, and I should have seen that a long, long time ago... But that fantasy, of breaking up with Misty, gets shot down pretty quickly. I know I can't actually break up with her. What kind of excuse could I give? I'm trapped, sure as sure can be.

I realize Misty is in the middle of talking about all of her plans for us tomorrow, so I have to interrupt her.

"Sorry, sweet pea, I've got that job I told you about," I say lovingly, playing the part of the perfect boyfriend as usual, only now noticing that I've been playacting this whole time.

"Oh, Dusty! I was hoping we could hang out with Cindy and Joe and all them. Can't you take the day off? It's our first day back together," Misty says, pouting a little. Before I would have thought it was cute and given in, but now I see that it's just spoiled Misty whining so she can get her way, as always.

"I'm sorry. My daddy said they need all hands on deck to get this job done in time," I say soothingly, lying out of my ass.

"Oh, well, since it's for your daddy..." she says.

"Speaking of which, I guess I'd better get going," I say, starting to pull on my clothes. "Got an early start."

Misty watches me still pouting, but she softens when I give her a long, loving kiss goodbye. The falseness of it takes all the sweetness out of the kiss and turns it into poison in my mouth, and it all just gets added on to the pile of shit of this endlessly long shitty day of feeling like shit.

I'm not even halfway home when I have to pull over to a side street and park, and I hit the dashboard with my fist in frustration.

"Fuck!" The feeling of being trapped with no way out is growing more and more and more. How am I going to survive this, living this old life for a year until I graduate, or even longer, when now I see it for what it is and I can't even stand it for one night? I don't have a choice, I don't have a choice, I have to stay in this cage! Not just being with Misty, but everything, my entire life is fake and...

My breath is coming short and fast and my palms are feeling sweaty and my vision starts to blur and my chest is feeling tighter and tighter... I try to focus on my breathing like I've been told to even though I feel like I'm suffocating, and right when I feel like I'm going to fucking pass out, like a damn bulldog my mind latches onto the image of him again. Jesse. His tight body and dick are so fucking hot. And I'd never even thought about it before yesterday, but he's good-looking too. That quiet smile on his face when he was looking down at me bathing in his piss. And you can almost see in his eyes that he's smart, kind, good... I smile a little despite myself. And loyal and trustworthy and thrifty and brave, I'm making him sound like a fucking Boy Scout. But that image in my mind's eye is like an anchor. It calms me down, rescues me from being adrift and steers me slowly back to shore, and despite my own resistance to thinking about him I let myself be comforted by the image of him. I'm not going to see him in person any more, but my memories are my own and I can still think about him. Can't I? I can think what I want, and no one will ever know, I decide somewhat defiantly. They haven't invented mind readers yet. I feel like I'm playing a dangerous game here, but if the alternative is to have a breakdown in public I guess there's not much choice really. At least that's how I rationalize the situation to myself as I start my truck again and head home.

What am I going to do. What the hell am I going to do. I've been in this cage damn near my whole life, haven't I? And there's no way out, no way out... The panic starts to set in again... But I try to shake it off by focusing on the fact that I need to make a plan. I need to find some escape route, there's gotta be a way, there's gotta be something I can do. Eventually I hit on the idea that if I blow Misty off and ignore her as much as I can, pretend to be too busy or too tired to meet up, maybe she'll get bored with me enough that she'll break up with me. Knowing her, not having me follow her everywhere like I used to, not having her arm on her favorite accessory all the time to show off, that might just be enough for her to get with someone else. But if she's set on marrying me, her high school sweetheart, football star, rich daddy, then she's going to be impossible to shake off... In my mind I try to imagine the chances that my plan will work, but I just can't predict what she's going to do. But at least now I have some idea of what I can do.

When I get home I say hi to my daddy and grab a beer from the fridge on my way up to my room. I open the window, strip to my boxers, and lie restlessly in bed, sure I'm going to have another long sleepless night. But then I suddenly get an idea. I hurriedly scan my mostly bare bookshelf and look around my desk and in the drawers and rummage through some piles of junk in my closet, and I finally find it buried underneath some forgotten jockstraps and old football pads. My yearbook from last year. I feel pretty guilty about pulling it out, but I can't help flipping quickly through it. I skip past the seniors' pages and look through the club pages that are near the front pretty quickly, scanning for his name. Despite making fun of his club activities, it doesn't look like he's actually in any clubs. Guess he doesn't have time for them.

I slow down when I get to the section for photos of the juniors. I come across Misty's photo first. Perfect smile, perfect hair, perfect make-up, she's like a real life plastic Barbie doll. There's a reason why every guy in school wants her. She's so good at playacting that just looking at her picture you wouldn't even guess what a bitch she is to everyone who isn't me. I see my picture next. I guess I'd be considered good-looking, but what strikes me about the photo is the look in my eyes. Honestly, I look like an arrogant little prick. I sigh a little, but it's been a long day of feeling ashamed about myself, so there's nothing new there.

Finally, I find his picture. Jesse Grayson. I study it closely, still feeling guilty, like I'm invading his privacy, like someone's going to catch me in the act. Dark untameable hair. Brilliant hazel eyes, intelligent with a bit of a cynical, wise to the world look to them. Glasses, magnetic half smile. The expression on his face is an odd combination of "Don't notice me", a blend-into-the-background wallflower type of look, but there's also that underlying defiance, that toughness that draws me in so much, like, "I don't care if no one notices me. Fuck them." It's not arrogance though. His expression says, "I've got better things to do than care what you think of me." It's like he's above us all, not in a superior way, but in a completely confident way, like he's resting on a foundation as solid as a rock and everyone else is living on sand. Like he's the human who doesn't care a bit about what ants think about him, because they're just too small to be worth bothering about. We're not even on his radar. I can't think of anyone I've ever met who cares so little about what anyone else thinks about him, and it takes me a minute to recognize the emotion I'm feeling. Envy. I wish I could be more like him.

I can't help myself. I touch the photo of his face lightly with my thumb, and that tiny little act makes me smile a little at how cheesy and dumb I'm being. But I can't ignore the little jolt that passes through me from such a small, silly little act, and it's like before when I was sitting on the shore of the lake when I was looking for him. It's stupid, but somehow seeing his picture makes me feel connected with him in some small way. And even though I'm hidden away in the privacy of my own room, I feel myself blushing a little. Fuck, I think, for what feels like the thousandth time. What the fuck is wrong with me?

The mental and emotional weariness of the day, the whole week, finally catches up with me, or maybe seeing his picture has relaxed me some, and I finally find myself drifting off. The yearbook drops down and my arms hug it lightly to my chest, and I try to imagine what it would be like, not caring about the rest of the world like that. What would it be like, feeling that... that free...

Right on the edges of consciousness, right as I'm falling asleep, a faint little voice is saying, Dusty, don't you remember, you have felt that free, once... When was that? But just as I'm about to remember I'm out like a light...